


fate, up against your will

by cielle (scipunx)



Series: the princess and the cursan ass(assin) [1]
Category: Andromeda Six (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Calderon plays wingman and older brother figure, Damon is a whole bastard who doesn't believe in love, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24552562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scipunx/pseuds/cielle
Summary: He swears that his heart stops when he catches the six-petal rosette glimmering on the woman’s wrist, a perfect mirror of his own.(Of course, his soulmate is a literal princess.)
Relationships: Damon Reznor/Traveler, Vexx Serif/Traveler
Series: the princess and the cursan ass(assin) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819468
Comments: 11
Kudos: 66





	fate, up against your will

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot ran the hell away from me, and I chased after it. I definitely listened to The Killing Moon by Echo & The Bunnymen on repeat, as I wrote this. I might write what happens in Cursa when Chapter 4 is released, but I've left out massive Patreon spoilers that make this fic hella AU, so idk.
> 
> Thank you so much to my friend, Belinda for being my beta, as well as my cinnamon roll partner for schooling me in what's actually realistic in combat and deflowering my purple prose.

Damon’s mark appears when he is sixteen, the burning on his wrist superseding the fiery rage in his gut.

It is the worst possible timing, and he doesn’t want to deal with this now, if ever.

Relentless droplets of rain pound down over his shivering frame, the damp cold seeping through to his very bones. Damon’s lungs sear as he tears through the district streets with a switchblade clutched in one hand and a clenched fist in the other.

“Get back here, you little shit!”

Cursing and ducking down a narrow alleyway, he tries to lose his tail through the labyrinthine slums. A small alcove on the side of a dilapidated building catches his frantic eye. Damon presses himself against the brickwork, holding his breath while the angry bellows of his pursuer die out in the distance.

Finally allowing himself a misty exhale, he slumps down onto the concrete and pulls his sleeve up.

A six-petal rosette glows over his skin.

Damon clicks his tongue in annoyance at the damned thing, the echoes of its formation tingling warmly through his nerves. It’s not like he ever believed in _soulmates_ of all things, and it isn’t anywhere in his nature to listen to some mark tell him who he’s meant to love and be with forever and ever in a happy ending that is simply impossible in the dreich streets of Cursa.

Love is feigned emotions and calculated actions as a means to survival. A soul bond is useless to him on this shithole of a planet.

His parents were certainly not made for each other with their marks, that was clear. Damon has never missed their violent arguments that often ended up with smashed bottles and bruising. To be perfectly honest, he is glad that they’re both dead; he’s been better off without them.

The heat blooming throughout his body makes him forget the dampness of his clothes just for a moment. It’s violating, almost, unwillingly experiencing his supposed soulmate’s joy, when all he wants to do is stab someone.

Overwhelmed, Damon flings his knife at the floor and lets out the frustrated growl rising in his throat.

_Fate can go fuck itself._

✾✾

Ivy Peg’asi gasps when the tell-tale burning manifests itself, the novel in her hand landing on the plush floor with a dull thud.

She brushes her trembling fingertips over the floral mark that gleams across her wrist, marvelling at the heat enveloping her. The feeling of her nerves being set ablaze warms her far better than the decorative fireplace of her library ever could. Maybe it is a childish thing to hope that she will one day meet someone preordained to love her, but as a lonely fourteen-year old, Ivy can’t help but cling on to the idealistic notion.

Those thoughts are quickly dashed when panic and rage thrash within her, eating away at her insides; her soulmate clearly does not share her sentiment. Ivy sinks into her chaise longue, curling up amongst the silk embroidered throw pillows that had been painstakingly curated for the room by the royal interior decorator. The delicate scent of diffused lavender settles her somewhat, one of the few choices she had made to furnish her gilded prison.

Ivy chalks up her terrible luck and general unworthiness of love to being the youngest of eleven children. Her father takes great care to remind her of such at every opportunity he has. King Fenris has her sequestered in an isolated wing of the palace, far away from prying eyes and the rest of her family. Nerissa visits her at times, bringing gifts from the kitchens in the form of her favourite macarons and other assorted sweet pastries.

Her sister’s company tempers her loneliness for a short while, but Ivy’s main source of companionship is her library. Physical novels are considered as prized relics of the past, but of course, the royal family has entire libraries filled with them. Ivy has guiltily poured over many books with romantic stories of soulmates finally meeting one another as fate had always intended.

Reality doesn’t mirror fiction, however, and she knows that the chances of meeting her actual soulmate are close to zero. She will inevitably be betrothed to a stranger as a political gambit, and that is her only worth, being the last in line as heir.

Still, Ivy hopes and _yearns_. At least the universe thinks that there is someone out there who might love her.

✾✾

The running water dyes crimson underneath Damon’s hands. It’s only his umpteenth kill, but this one was particularly brutal. The boy’s despairing eyes haunt him, visuals of the child’s shoes in the pool of their parents’ blood branded in his memory, their anguished screams echoing in Damon’s ears.

_He was only a kid._

“Fuck!”

Damon chokes out a strangled sob, furiously wiping his stinging eyes with the back of his forearm. Unfailingly, his soulmate feels his angst and sends their pity his way. Damon tries his hardest to ignore the soothing emotions trickling through him, the heat over his wrist serving as a maddening contrast to the cold water from the faucet.

Maybe he should be grateful that he can rely on the comfort that his soulmate gives him, a constant reminder that he is never truly alone in this godforsaken system.

The assassin leans over, his wet hands gripping the sides of the dingy ceramic sink. He allows the feelings to rush over him just this once, languishing in its warmth. The cloying _love_ that envelops him is becoming less and less alien to him every time he experiences it.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but it scares him. It’s just another thing in his life that he doesn’t have any control over.

✾✾

Ivy dreams of places far beyond the confines of palace walls, imagining herself traipsing around Seleota with her best and only friend.

Vexx takes her out on clandestine trips to the Gold district of Silta Vie, and the princess has fleeting glimpses of freedom for the first time in her life. Her eyes sparkle at the haute couture storefronts, and Vexx gifts her small trinkets of their time together. Ivy tries her best to hide her interest in silver-gilt barrettes and delicate earrings from him, but he always seems to notice.

They sit inside quaint coffeehouses, sipping on lattes and discussing their proposals of running away together and travelling the world. Ivy quashes her envy at Vexx’s stories of the places he’s visited, and she almost believes his promises that they will see them together, one day.

Sometimes, she wishes that Vexx were her soulmate.

The sunset paints the sky in a pink hue as they watch the darkening horizon.

“I’ll show you mine, and you show me yours?” Ivy asks playfully.

Vexx tilts his head and blithely nods at her, entertaining her whim as per usual. He never speaks about his own mark, and she can’t help her curiosity.

Ivy daringly lifts up her sleeve, exposing the rosette on her wrist.

“How pretty,” Vexx murmurs, his fingers ghosting over her skin.

She suppresses her shudder at his touch.

The guard turns around and reaches a hand to tug at the back of his coat, lowering his collar to reveal his mark. The sight of its faded and scarred outline smacks her in the face. Ivy’s heart sinks at its meaning.

Vexx faces her again wordlessly.

“I’m sorry,” she covers his hand with her own, squeezing it gently.

Vexx shrugs, his smile almost a grimace.

“It happens to a lot of people.”

Ivy drops her head to rest against his shoulder and slots her fingers through his, as though they were meant to be there.

“At least you don’t get to experience the hell of feeling everything someone else does, anymore.”

He laughs bitterly in response but doesn’t shy away from her.

“Sure, if you prefer the alternative of always feeling like you’ve lost something,” Vexx says too nonchalantly. “It’s like you’re missing something, and you know that you’ll never find it again.”

She wouldn’t, at the sound of that. Ivy is, however, tired of a distant soulmate who remains unresponsive to any of her attempts to connect with them. Meanwhile, Vexx, her ever loyal guard, is right there in front of her.

Mustering the courage to sidle into his lap, Ivy dares to meet his eyes before swallowing down a nervous breath.

“Let me help you with that,” she offers boldly, her heart slamming against her chest. “If you want me to.”

Smirking, Vexx’s heated gaze rakes over her.

“I want you… to.”

Ivy bursts out laughing, but she quickly composes herself when Vexx averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. Grabbing the lapels of his jacket, she captures his lips with her own.

They soothe each other’s loneliness when they can, but they both know it in their souls that they could never be the substitute for what they both want.  
  


✾✾

The deck erupts into chaos.

Sirens blare as the ship’s radar lights up like a goddamned Christmas tree. Calderon starts barking out orders and everyone rushes to their battle stations, while Damon frantically tries to liaise with his contacts on Goldis to figure out exactly what is going on.

His wrist burns like hell, and he knows that something is deeply wrong. A strange fear shakes him to the very core, shallowing his breaths and turning his blood frigid.

Damon feels as if his own body is being battered with every blow.

Gritting his teeth, Damon pulls his glove off to find his mark illuminated in a searing white. Surely, his skin should be melting off at this point. He glares at the offensive thing, shouldering the agony and disgruntledly trying to send out pacifying feelings to his wounded soulmate.

“You better be fucking worth it.”

After scouring his sources, Damon’s intel tells him that Jes Zovack has already launched his bloody coup, murdering the entire Peg’asi royal line. All hell has broken loose in Silta Vie, and the Andromeda Six lands right in the middle of it.

The golden boy is rightfully fuming when June with his bleeding heart drags a worse-for-wear stowaway on board. If looks could kill, June would perish under Calderon’s withering gaze.

“Get them off my ship.”

June protests, “I couldn’t just leave them behind to die—!”

Their shouts fade into the background, when Damon sees it. He swears that his heart stops when he catches the six-petal rosette glimmering on the woman’s wrist, a perfect mirror of his own.

_It’s her._

The sight of his soulmate fills him with an aching familiarity as a tumultuous rush of emotions threaten to overwhelm him. Swallowing back the gasp that almost tears itself from his throat, Damon remembers to breathe.

He intervenes between his crewmates.

“Just let this one go, Cal,” he says quietly.

His captain snarls, “Don’t test me, Reznor. Not right now.”

Damon squares up the taller man with more than his usual amount of insubordination.

“You know that I’m not one to beg, _Captain_ ,” the assassin emphasises his utterance of the title. “And this is as close as I get to it.”

Calderon pauses, eyes widening in surprise. The mutual trust between them goes unsaid, and his Captain acknowledges it as his shoulders relax in acquiescence.

“Fine, just take them to Ryona and inform me immediately when they wake up,” Calderon says. “You better have a damned good explanation for this later.”

✾✾

Ivy’s return to consciousness is a mess of confusion. She’s only just recalled her name, and everything is unfamiliar to her.

Who is she?

Why can’t she remember anything?

There is barely any time to process the absurdity of it all. The mark on her wrist provides some solace, after June had kindly explained the concept of soulmates to her. Bash wears his own mark proudly emblazoned across his back, a pair of feathered wings being the centrepiece of his tattoos. The mechanic calls Ryona _his angel_ , and Ivy is only just a little bit jealous at their happiness.

When Ivy sees Damon for the first time, her wrist immediately flares.

A flood of familiar emotions drowns her. Everything else from her past eludes her, but she recognises _this_. The mark burns with an intensity that Ivy hadn’t felt since its appearance all those years ago, making her cry out and dig her nails into her wrist.

The man before her is handsome but dark and all shadows, the inscrutable expression on his face at odds with the turbulence rattling within her.

“It’s you,” she exhales.

✾✾

His soulmate is finally awake and standing in front of him on the bridge of the Andromeda Six. Damon can’t deny the connection between them; the mark sears at the skin underneath his glove. He can only imagine that Ivy’s own mark burns in the same way, calling out to each other for union.

It only makes him want to bolt in the opposite direction away from her.

Damon shunts his fear, however, knowing all too well that she can also feel it at their close proximity. He slinks towards her with his usual bravado, despite his soulmate’s turmoil and his own nerves betraying him.

“Am I everything that you hoped for, sweetheart?” he purrs, lifting her chin up.

Her arousal sets his nerves aflame, and he resents the hold that she has over him. Ivy steps away from his grasp, staring the assassin down defiantly.

“I stopped hoping ages ago.”

Damon doesn’t need the soul bond to know that she’s lying.

Or that she desperately wants him.

An intense longing pulls at his insides, and he almost can’t bear it. Damon doesn’t know how long he can keep up this blasé charade, when he is sick and tired of having his feelings constantly be infringed upon. He wants to hate her, but everything inside of him is screaming the opposite.

“D’you hafta emote so much?” Damon snaps, his accent slipping. He curses himself for his own lack of self-control. “It’s insanely annoying.”

The shocked look on Ivy’s face is priceless, and so is the momentary quiet that settles over him.

She quickly manages to compose herself and spits out, “You are such a bloody hypocrite.”

“It’s hard to be stoic, when I can feel absolutely _everything_ that you are.”

“Well, _so-rry_ ,” Ivy drawls with enough venom to kill a man. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m an amnesiac on a spaceship, and I’ve only just met my soulmate who has turned out to be a complete dickhead!”

Fucking hell, he can’t help but be turned on when she’s insulting him like that. The quirk at the corner of her lips tells Damon that Ivy had felt it too, but she quickly turns on her heel and storms off in a huff.

✾✾

Vexx’s betrayal hurts more than she could have ever imagined.

Mind becoming a haze afterwards, Ivy finds herself drifting through reality. Her entire family is dead, and now, she is truly alone. Any joy or relief that she’s supposed to be feeling at her liberation from a privileged life of books and arranged marriage is completely absent.

Instead, Ivy feels nothing.

The usual pangs from Damon’s scuffles don’t even faze her anymore, and when the assassin makes an appearance covered in blood, Ivy doesn’t have the capacity to react. She watches Damon frown at her, sensing that something is off. He should be relieved at her lack of emotions, she thinks.

Ivy doesn’t even care about the crew’s reactions to the revelation that she is a Peg’asi. It only hurts when Damon proposes to sell her out.

✾✾

Of course, his soulmate is a literal princess.

Damon wants to hand her over to Zovack, just so that the crew can get their bounties off their backs, and he can feel himself again. He had only experienced Ivy’s particularly strong emotions before they met, but it’s so much worse when they’re sharing the same space together.

After the crew yells at him for bringing it up and Calderon shoots him down, his half-hearted hope of never seeing Ivy again disappears.

“—don’t go crucifying me for saying what you’re all thinking,” Damon backs off in defeat, ignoring his soulmate’s sting of betrayal biting at him.

Seeing the pained expression on Ivy’s face gives him some pause and a flash of regret. He slinks away, not wanting to dwell on it any longer.

Later, Calderon pulls Damon aside to chastise him. _How dare he treat his soulmate so poorly_ , blah blah blah, _doesn’t he know how lucky he is to meet her at all in the first place?_ He doesn’t need his Captain to tell him what he already knows.

Calderon runs a hand over his face in his usual frustration, muttering something about how the assassin is going to be the death of him, again. His reverence for the stupid soul bonds grates on Damon’s nerves.

“She clearly cares for you, Reznor,” he doesn’t want her to. “At least respect that.”

“The only reason she gives a shit about me is ‘cause the universe randomly predetermined it,” Damon growls. “‘Sides, I don’t see you respecting my boundaries, Cal.

“That doesn’t invalidate her feelings,” the man’s face softens. “And I’m only saying this as someone who cares about your wellbeing.”

“Thanks and appreciated, but I don’t need your advice.” Damon turns to walk away.

“You’re only in denial!” Calderon calls out after him.

_No shit._

✾✾

Damon keeps a distance from her after Cursa. He seems to be incredibly adept at making himself scarce whenever Ivy is around, which isn’t terribly surprising considering that stealth is in his job description as an assassin. His line of work explains all of the pain she had endured over the years.

It pisses her off, a lot.

The rest of the crew accepts her with much more ease, and Ivy begins to pull her weight around the ship. She shoots the shit with Ayame while the pilot shows her some basic ship calibrations, and she helps Ryona organise supplies and sanitise the med bay from time to time. June comes around to teaching her gun safety and how to maintain a firearm, and Bash hands her a welding iron one day and guides her through some minor ship repairs.

Meanwhile, Calderon takes her under his wing. He checks in on Ivy every day, strangely concerned for her wellbeing.

The ship feels empty at dawn, with most of the crew being later risers. Ivy savours the quiet and stillness of the early morning and starts to make espresso as part of her newfound daily ritual.

Calderon greets her in the kitchen with his impeccable appearance despite the early hour, as usual.

“Good morning, Captain,” Ivy greets him warmly with two cups of coffee already prepared.

“As much as I enjoy one of my crew addressing me by my proper title on a regular basis,” Calderon accepts the proffered mug with an appreciative smile. “You don’t have to be so formal all the time, stowaway.”

She grins, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They both sit down at the dining table, sipping at their coffee in companionable silence while watching the stars outside.

Ivy speaks first, “You know about Damon and I, don’t you?”

Calderon looks at her before sighing, “Yes, I do.”

“Do you think that he hates me?”

“No, I think Damon more resents the general concept of soulmates,” he starts gently. “It’s also just the bastard in him, really.”

Ivy laughs, tasting the bitterness of the espresso on her tongue.

“I think I understand,” she says, staring down at her drink. “Nobody gets a choice in the matter. It’s kind of messed up, now that I think about it.”

“It can be.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Calderon’s expression darkens for a moment, before he drains his mug.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” he grimaces. “But I’ve seen several successful bonds. My mothers, for instance.” He smiles at a nostalgic memory that resurfaces before continuing. “Honestly, I just want Damon to be happy for once in his life, and you’d be good for him—don’t tell him I said that, though.”

Hope swells in Ivy’s chest.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” her eyes sparkle. “Now, if only Damon would remove his head from his arse.”

Calderon laughs.

✾✾

Damon finds her sitting cross-legged on the floor of the observation deck, eyes closed in meditation. He’s been watching her from afar to avoid the emotional deluge that hits him whenever she’s near.

It’s different, this time. His mark radiates a comfortable warmth, instead of the expected burning. A peacefulness washes over him when he walks closer, a refreshing change to the usual affective noise.

“Can I help you?” Ivy lazily blinks her hazel eyes open, pupils adjusting to the light.

“This is the first time I’ve felt calm while being in the same room as you,” he says, leaning against the windowpane. “I’m impressed, Princess.”

“I’m glad.”

Standing up, Ivy approaches him, until she gets close. Specks of amber dot her irises, her eyes framed by long, curled lashes. Damon breathes in the heady scent of lavender, the slow burn of lust coiling low in his gut.

“You know, we’d be so good together,” a slow smirk spreads across her face.

She’s trying to seduce him, and it’s… actually working.

“I see you’ve been takin’ a few pages out of my playbook,” Damon chuckles and daringly leans in closer.

Ivy’s eyes widen slightly, and she pulls back much to his disappointment, a blush tinging her cheeks.

“Ryona said that meditation is good for my mental health. Helps with emotional regulation,” she says candidly. “She also mentioned that it makes the whole empathic soul bond thing easier, so I guess that’s also a bonus.”

“Fair enough,” he’s strangely touched by her reasoning. “I can actually hear myself think, now.”

“Yeah, you’re a massive catch,” she’s definitely being half-sarcastic. “Now that you can stand to be in the same room as me.”

Damon grins suggestively, “I can think of something else that’s _way_ more fun and would also improve your mental health.”

He’s trying to get a rise out of her, but Ivy simply laughs at him almost condescendingly, as if she knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Maybe later,” she says, dismissing him with a kiss to his cheek.

Failing to hide his shock from her, Damon wills the heat in his face to disappear, but physiology’s a bitch. Ivy smiles conspiratorially at him as she leaves, lights dancing behind her eyes.

“See you around, _soulmate_.”

✾✾

The K’Merii catch them in an ambush in an industrial district of Orion.

Ivy blinks as Damon instinctively drops down and shields his face from the gravel that rebounds in the spray of gunfire, shouting into the comms.

Terror courses through her body, her pulse racing in her ears. She freezes.

✾✾

Damon pulls Ivy down with him and instinctively drags her behind a concrete wall for cover. Her fear instantly floods through him. He holds her tighter against him in response, trying to empathically soothe her.

“You’ve got your pistol, right?” Damon yells against the storm of bullets.

Ivy nods and unholsters her firearm, gripping it steadily in her hands. This isn’t her first run-in with the bastards, and she’s been practising at the range with Calderon and June.

He’s oddly proud of her.

“Cover me while I push forward!”

Peering over the ledge, Damon surveys the landscape, spotting their targets before turning to Ivy.

“Moving!” he yells over the din.

Ivy winces, not without squeezing his hand first and running a thumb over his wrist, her eyes full of concern. The mark warms and glimmers faintly underneath her touch, matching her own.

She answers, “Covering!”

He throws her a reassuring smirk.

_We’ve got this._

They wait for a lull in the gunfire. Finally, the shooting dies down into silence.

Damon shoulders his SMG confidently and moves forward, sprinting for the nearest vantage point. Shots fly all around him, and he doesn’t dare to look back until he reaches safety. Relief pours over him when he finds Ivy unscathed, firing rounds with a determined look on her pretty face.

Telling himself to keep it in his pants and that now is definitely not the right goddamn time, Damon scouts out the assailants. He finds three: bastard number one is on the scaffolding next to the construction zone. Bastard number two is around thirty metres ahead using a forklift as cover. The last crouches behind a shipping container to his right.

The assassin prefers it up close and personal with much more stabbing involved, but he can make ranged combat work in a pinch.

Damon goes for the first K’Merii agent, rounds ripping through their position. A stray bullet ricochets off the top of the barrier and grazes his ear, knocking out his comms. The adrenaline coursing through him dulls the sting, and he winces before returning fire.

Ivy’s pistol isn’t amazing considering its short range, but she manages to clip her target just as they lean out from the forklift. Damon finishes them off with a burst from his own weapon.

The last one makes the sensible decision to run, and Damon gestures for Ivy to hold. After a quick sweep of the layout and a good few long moments of stillness, he is satisfied enough to give her the all clear.

Ivy steps out from her cover, a victorious grin illuminating her face, until it doesn’t. A crack rings out, and she falls.

Damon snarls as he recoils from feeling the same force of the gunshot. Shock masking the pain, he whips around to face the fucker, _the one that he missed._

He aims for the head and doesn’t hesitate. The body collapses to the ground, and Damon rushes over to Ivy. Knees hitting gravel, he immediately applies pressure to the wound with his hands, blood spurting around his palms at an alarming rate.

“Ivy’s down!” Damon growls into his defunct comms. “Get Ryona here, _now._ Where the fuck are you?!”

The resounding static is deafening.

Ivy is gasping, his mark is killing him, and their mutual panic shakes him.

“I-I can’t feel anything,” she tears up, laughing in bewilderment. “It’s so _weird_.”

“You’re in shock, sweetheart.”

Damon wants to comfortingly stroke her hair but knows that he must keep his hands where they are. His heart pounds in his ears when Ivy’s eyelids begin to flutter, consciousness slipping away from her.

The searing of his mark brands his wrist in a raw burn.

“Stay with me,” Damon finds himself pleading, desperately trying to staunch the crimson pooling around her with his bare hands. “C’mon Ivy, don’t fucking die on me!”

He can’t lose her now, not since they’ve found each other.

“They’re over here!”

Barely registering the approaching footsteps, Damon’s entire being sinks in sheer relief when Calderon appears before him.

“I fucked up,” he blurts out, guilt leeching at his insides.

The Captain sucks in a breath at the dire scene, before steadying himself.

“Ryona is here, it’s going to be okay—”

“Please, just save her.”

Everything else is a blur.

✾✾

When she finally returns to the waking world, Ivy feels as if a weight is blanketed over her. The bleariness of her vision is disorientating, but she can make out the surroundings of the Andromeda Six med bay.

Her body screams in protest when she tries to sit up.

“…I don’t want to be Queen,” Ivy groans in pain, sinking back into the bed.

“Hey, take it easy,” she hears a familiar chuckle. “Y’nearly died back there.”

_Damon._

Her tender wrist warms at the sight of her soulmate sitting next to her bedside. The relief in his expression overshadows the exhaustion that is clear in the dark circles under his eyes.

Weakly unfurling her fingers, Ivy rests an outstretched hand on top of the blanket. Damon intertwines their fingers together.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he says quietly, squeezing her hand.

His regret makes her heart hurt.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” he scoffs. “It’s not your fault, I massively screwed up. I shoulda made damn sure that the place was completely clear before giving you the signal.”

Ivy sighs, a tired haze falling upon her and threatening her eyelids to close.

“Please don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“You almost weren’t.”

Powerless against the call of sleep, Ivy smiles at him. She sends her love his way, as she feels herself drifting off.

“Whatever,” she murmurs, closing her eyes. “I’m just glad that you’re my soulmate.”

“…you really shouldn’t be,” Damon says in almost a whisper, not letting go of her hand. “But I appreciate it.”

✾✾

Damon turns over a page in his book, scanning a passage about the formulation of an engineered neurotoxin that could kill someone in a heartbeat. Honestly, it’s one of his favourites.

Somehow, the assassin has found himself with his soulmate curled up against him in his bed on a lazy afternoon, both quietly enjoying each other’s company while reading separately. Closing his eyes, he listens to the steady hum of the ship’s engine. The sound of home and the warmth that emanates from his mark comforts Damon with a familiarity that almost feels as if it’s always been there.

He’s never felt so at peace.

It only lasts for so long, until Ivy suddenly detaches herself from his arms, sitting up straight.

“I don’t want to be Queen,” she reaffirms.

Damon tears his eyes away from his book, arching an eyebrow.

“So you’ve said.”

Casually sprawling herself over his lap, Ivy places her own novel page-down onto her chest.

“All I want to do is travel, learn a bunch of new things, read entire libraries of books and be with you.”

Of course, only Ivy would be the one to throw away her regency and the fate of the whole system for someone like him.

A part of him knows that she’s doing it for herself, too.

“Oh, is that all?” he says teasingly, putting his book aside.

“Yep!” Ivy says smugly. “Besides, I quite like the idea of a democratic Seleota. A monarchy seems completely archaic, in comparison.”

Damon grins, carding his fingers through her hair. “For the people, by the people?”

Lifting her chin with one hand like the first time they met, he runs a thumb gently over her lips. Ivy melts into him, levelling her gaze at him through her eyelashes.

“Exactly.”

He leans in despite the protests in his head, unable to help himself.

Their lips meet, and Ivy almost sobs against him in sweet relief. Damon lets out a stifled moan, and every nerve in her body sings.

She’s never felt so complete.

Ivy draws back when her eyes start to water. She blinks the wetness away, embarrassed.

“You must think it’s stupid, but I’ve always loved you, Damon.”

He stiffens briefly at her confession, but Ivy’s immediate gentle reassurance quells his gnawing anxiety for the millionth time. Damon closes the gap between them again, trying not to think about the complexities of their shared fate, for once.

When they part, he rests his forehead against hers, eyes closed at his heart feeling full.

“It’s not stupid,” he admits softly.

_Maybe it’s okay to be loved like this._

The beam that spreads across Ivy’s teary face threatens to split it apart, elated at the wave of his warm emotions wholly directed at her.

_Finally._

Laughter escapes her and she kisses him again, simply because she can. Damon can only grin at her infectious joy.

After what seems like ages, Ivy hesitantly pulls away to cup the side of his face lovingly, sighing only with her fondness for him.

“You were always a stubborn bastard.”

A slow smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Damon wraps his arms around her.

“But I’m your stubborn bastard now, sweetheart.”


End file.
